


Showers

by AgenderMaine (AngelusErrare)



Series: Falling Towards The Feels [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Gay Character, Lesbian Character, Nonbinary Character, Pansexual Character, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, except wyoming. fuck you wyoming, nobody is straight and everyone is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusErrare/pseuds/AgenderMaine
Summary: The first time in the communal showers is awkward for... well, mostly everyone involved. Not because they don't appear to be separate-sex showers, but for much more complicated reasons.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually canon to the _Falling Towards The Feels_ continuity, and I plan on going back through the old works in FTTF and correcting pronouns. I've had these headcanons for a long time but wasn't confident enough in myself to actually openly write them.
> 
> Carwash siblings are still a thing in FTTF, but not mentioned in this specific fic because this would be at the time when Carolina and Wash were trying to keep it hidden from the other Freelancers.
> 
> I keep a list of everyone's genders and orientations [[here!](https://alonneknight.tumblr.com/post/157989767376/)] in case anyone is confused or needs something to refer to! It includes a few things that weren't explicitly mentioned in this fic (but may be mentioned explicitly in others).

For the few weeks it has taken to recruit all the members of Project Freelancer, the people who have been assigned to certain teams have been planetside. Different bases, different operations; most members of the Project have never met any of the others.

Once on the Mother of Invention, the information Alpha team was given before being shown to their communal locker room and showers was basic, to say the least. They know nothing of each other save for codenames and strengths and weaknesses.

Carolina, the red-haired martial artist with piercing green eyes and a talent for basically everything combat-oriented. The kind of person you thank for punching you.

New York, the brown-skinned snarker with a smile a hell of a lot smoother than the pick-up lines that leave it and a talent for picking locks. Probably not some random thief snatched off the street.

Wyoming, the dark-haired British sniper with an air of superiority toward just about everyone. Possibly an alien species of mustache piloting a very convincing human suit.

Florida, the absolutely terrifying shadow of a person who is definitely not standing right behind you at any given moment. When people think of "emerald eyes" they are probably thinking of Florida's. Emerald eyes will probably be the last thing they ever see.

North Dakota, six feet tall, with the well-built shoulders of a sniper and the pale skin of a Stoker vampire. A soft and warm voice that is the auditory equivalent of a hug.

South Dakota, five-foot-nine of anger with fiery eyes and a filthy mouth, more than willing to rip yours off if you say the wrong thing. It's best not to speak; infiltrators are masters of digging discreet graves.

Maine, who might actually be some sort of half-tree hybrid and hasn't taken off the massive suit of armor since the team were measured for them. Standing at seven-foot-three, the literal giant of a Freelancer dwarfs everyone and always looks on the verge of throwing someone out the airlock.

Connecticut, tiny and sweet with a brown undercut and an apparent talent for hacking. The shortest member of the team, but that sharp smile is a warning that size is rarely important.

Washington, awkward and gangly and looking a little lost among the rest of the team. The short, fluffy blonde hair gets mussed by everyone until South points out the black roots. Then they all ruffle it more.

So really, what they all know about each other is superficial and clinical at best and absolute bullshit at worst, and now they're all expected to shower together, separated only by short dividing walls that really don't hide anything for the taller members of the team.

There's no way this could _possibly_ be awkward at all.

Except it isn't as awkward as North expected, because South immediately snaps, "Alright, so I'm guessing most of you motherfuckers are cis, and if you say _anything_ about my fucking body I'm going to rip your fucking tongue out through your motherfucking ass, _got it_?"

Well, that's one way to break the ice.

Sighing, North adds, "She means it," before grabbing a towel off the pile they were provided. 

"You'll find no arguments here." Florida's smile is no less terrifying than earlier. "I'm nonbinary myself, so I must say I'm pleased as punch to not be alone!"

Wyoming _hmphs_. "Well, I'm not transgender. I'm n--"

The soft _shhk_ of metal on leather is entirely at odds with the new team hacker's generally innocent appearance. "If you say 'normal' I'm going to stab you," Connecticut warns, and York nods.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not gonna stab you, but you're really gonna regret sayin' it."

Maine hasn't really said much since they were all introduced, but the low, tigerlike growl has York and Wyoming both backing up.

Connecticut looks up at Maine curiously. "You too?"

The giant's head dips in the barest of nods.

Miffed, Wyoming mutters, "I was _going_ to say I'm not some prick who takes offense to having transgender companions."

"Wait," Carolina says with a sigh. "Maybe we should do actual introductions instead of the regulation crap we did earlier. Pronouns, preferred gender labels, stuff like that." When no one protests, the boss adds, "Right. I'm... questioning, I guess. I'm not entirely sure if I'm cis, but I go by 'she' or 'they'."

"We already know I'm nonbinary," Florida practically purrs, leaning against one of the nearby lockers. "Any pronouns are absolutely peachy!"

When no one else immediately speaks, North sighs. "Fluid, here. Usually use 'they', but recently I've preferred 'she' so I'd appreciate it if you used that."

She's barely finished when South snaps, "'She' and only 'she,'" grabbing a towel and stalking off towards the actual showers. Moments later her shirt sails past their heads, her pants landing just short of the benches.

York shrugs a moment later. "I guess I'm some flavor of nonbinary. 'They' and 'he' are just fine, but if you feel like using 'xe' that's always nice."

Washington and Connecticut share a glance before the former mumbles a shy, "you first."

Connecticut grins. "'They' here, and my gender is ehhhhh." They wave their hand in a sort of noncommittal hand gesture, shrugging as they do. Then they sit down on the bench, unlacing their boots. When they start tugging at their pants, Washington splutters.

"We're probably going to see each other naked a good few times," Florida points out, amused by how red Washington's face is turning. "Might as well get used to it, Wash." That being said, they begin undoing their braid, running fingers through the long locks before tossing it back over their shoulder and...

Wash is having a very hard time believing Florida _isn't_ being deliberately slow and teasing. That swish of their hips can't be anything but intentional, and the youngest Freelancer gulps hard.

"I-I'm Wash and, uh, 'he' or 'they'. I'm a trans gay."

It isn't until he hears around four simultaneous "same"s that he realizes what he just said.

"Is it even possible for a human being to be that shade of red?" York questions, leaning over Connecticut to stare at Wash.

"Apparently it is," Connie teases, reaching up to flick Wash's beet-red nose. They've wrapped a towel around their waist to spare Wash any further blushing. "Don't worry, tomato face, you're not alone."

Right now he really wishes he was, because that's probably the most embarrassing thing to happen to him in... ever.

Sparing him further embarrassment, Maine lets out a low rumble. "Agender. 'They.'" Tilting their head at Wash for a moment, the mountain of a Freelancer chortles. "Demi. Pan."

"Oh, really?" Wash chirps in curiosity, looking up at them. "I'm pan too! And ace, not that anyone asked."

"LESBIAN," shouts South from the showers, almost drowned out by the sound of the water as she turns it on.

North shakes her head with a quiet laugh. "Bi," she supplies, then excuses herself toward the showers instead of stripping in front of all of them.

"Gay," Wyoming sneers, and York rolls xir eyes and mouths _gay_ with an exaggerated scowl. Maine, Wash, and Carolina can see it most easily; Lina's lips twitch upward and Maine's shoulders shake, and Wash has to cover his mouth to hide the wide grin breaking across his face.

"Is there a single one of us that's straight?" Lina asks to distract herself. 

Connie pauses in unclasping their bra, looking around as they all are to see if anyone speaks up. When no one nods or speaks up, the only warning Wash receives before they drop the bra is a wink and smirk.

To his credit, the boy catches the meaning and is staring intently at Maine's arm as they stand up, towel still mercifully around their waist when they head toward the showers. His ears are still scarlet.

It's a good thing he isn't looking at Florida, because they're strutting after Connie completely buck naked.

 

This is the day the team learns three very important things:

1) none of them are straight, and most of them are not cis.

2) none of them are as alone as they feared going into the Project.

3) Florida does not know the meaning of the word "shame".


End file.
